


think i'll take a turn from the known road

by butwewillstay



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Camping, Episode: s02e05 The Vile Village: Part One, F/M, Interlude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26206513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butwewillstay/pseuds/butwewillstay
Summary: "The moon casts a pale, dreamlike glow over the desert as Jacques builds a small fire with wood scavenged from the dead shrubs around them, and Olivia wonders (not for the first time) if some encyclopedia has fallen off a shelf and knocked her unconscious, and this is some fantastical hallucination she is having while lying on the cold floor of her library."-An interminably long drive requires a break, sometimes.
Relationships: Olivia Caliban/Jacques Snicket
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	think i'll take a turn from the known road

**Author's Note:**

> title from "tiger striped sky" by roo panes

She’d left her copy of _The Sorrows of Young Werther_ on her desk at Prufrock Preparatory School. 

“I left my copy of  _ The Sorrows of Young Werther  _ on my desk at Prufrock,” She says. “It’s one of my favorite novels. I wish I could go back and get it.” 

She looks out the window, into the black night beyond the road. Olivia has never been this far away from civilization —she has always been in the City or at that dreadful school — and for some reason, the shadows surrounding the car remind her of the uncertainty regarding the Baudelaires, the Quagmires, the future. In the dark in the dark. 

When she speaks, Jacques does not pause in his adjustment of the taxi radio’s tuning dial as he scans for messages from other volunteers, but he does turn his head to glance at her for several seconds. If they weren’t in the middle of endless nowhere, she would berate him for not paying attention to the road.

“Are you having second thoughts about volunteering?” He says, and although he is generally as unreadable as Vice Principal Nero’s musical compositions, she thinks she detects something that resembles worry flickering across his face.

“Of course not,” She says quickly. “I want to help. I just wish I had sacrificed some of the strict practicality while packing to make room for sentimental and relaxing things.”

“A healthy balance of strict practicality and relaxation is often necessary,” Jacques says, and, evidently satisfied that there are no members of V.F.D. attempting to contact them, stops fiddling with the radio. It’s now set to some local station, and the soft crooning of Dick Haymes fills the taxi.

“Says the man who has us driving through a desert at — ” She checks her watch. “One fifty-two in the morning.”

“Touché,” He says, a smile tugging on his lips. “I suppose we won’t be much use apprehending Olaf without a decent amount of sleep. We should pull over and set up camp.”

The headlights illuminate the dusty road in front of the taxi, twin beams of light stretching out into the unknown. As Jacques pulls the car off the road and parks, Olivia watches the disturbed grains of sand from the Hinterland landscape dance in the glow, twisting and floating through the air. 

Jacques leaves the car on while they unload their basic supplies so that they can use the headlights to see their campsite. The music from the radio continues, as a soundtrack to their work.

They only have one tent, because the spare Jacques usually keeps in the trunk of the taxi was damaged while he was on a reconnaissance mission in Peru recently. Olivia does not mind, because in the open desert there are many directions that a potential enemy could come from, and she would rather not fight Olaf or whoever else might be out there when she is alone. She is brave, but she has the good sense not to be fearless. Fearlessness does not work out well for many characters in her books.

The tent is an old canvas thing, patches of green and brown fabric sewn together. Jacques is very good at setting it up, while Olivia is less skilled, so she helps by reviewing the manual and checking to make sure things have been fastened properly.

The moon casts a pale, dreamlike glow over the desert as Jacques builds a small fire with wood scavenged from the dead shrubs around them, and Olivia wonders (not for the first time) if some encyclopedia has fallen off a shelf and knocked her unconscious, and this is some fantastical hallucination she is having while lying on the cold floor of her library. 

But then Jacques crouches down to pull hot dogs and buns out of a box marked Viable Food Distribution that had been stored in the trunk of the taxi; and Olivia gets another glimpse of the eye-like tattoo on his ankle and realizes that no, she is not creative enough to dream up a whole secret organization or a mission that feels like it’s been ripped from the pages of a melodrama. 

They sit on the ground and roast the hot dogs over the fire, and discuss their favorite Enlightenment philosophes (Olivia enjoys the works of Voltaire, while Jacques favors Rousseau). 

When the flames have died down, and only smoldering embers remain, Jacques fixes them each a mug of tea. As he pours hot water into two plastic mugs and adds tea bags, she gazes at the sky. It’s filled with what seem to be thousands of pinpricks of light, as though some celestial figure has poked holes in the dark dome of the sky and allowed the glow of whatever lies beyond to filter through. 

“It’s a magnificent view,” Jacques says, and she turns her head to look at him. He nods towards the sky. “The stars.”

“Dwell on the beauty of life,” She says. “Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.”

“Marcus Aurelius said that,” He responds, and his hand brushes hers as he gives her one of the mugs of tea. Her stomach does a strange kind of flip that she pretends is because of the hot dog, and not Jacques’ soft smile. She gently blows the steaming beverage, and they fall into that comfortable silence that comes when two people trust each other enough to focus on other things in their presence. From inside the taxi a few paces away, Olivia can faintly hear a song she recognizes as “I’m Glad There is You” by Jimmy Dorsey. She used to think it was extraordinarily annoying.

Now, she finds she doesn’t mind it as much.

Eventually, Jacques stands (taking care not to spill his tea) and begins to rummage around the trunk of the taxi. He emerges after a minute clutching a paperback book that she instantly recognizes.

“I thought I had it back there,” He says, smiling, and holds up  _ The Sorrows of Young Werther _ . Olivia feels her face split into a grin as he sits down beside her again, and picks up his mug. Something warm and happy twists inside her chest.

“It is terribly tragic, though; I can’t imagine why you’d like it so much,” He says, and passes her the novel.

“Werther’s internal struggle between his mind and heart poses an interesting question about the value of emotions versus reason,” She says. “Logic versus love.”

She doesn’t pause to think before the words slip out, and her stomach drops slightly when Jaques does not meet her gaze. By themselves, the words mean nothing, but both of them have been dancing around each other in some confusing whirlwind of flirtatious banter and thoughtful gestures and a semblance of professionalism; all the while avoiding any sort of meaningful conversation about emotions or feelings or personal attachment. They have a job to do.

She would either have to be terribly clueless or extremely persuasive to trick herself into believing she feels nothing for him. He is safe, and kind, and intelligent, and most importantly he makes her the happiest she has been in a long, long time. And she would have to be oblivious to convince herself that he is not at least somewhat interested in her, with his flirtations and literary comments and long gazes. Still, that may just be his nature. She has only known him for a short while, after all. 

She could kiss him, now, just to see. Most of her wants to, but the rational side of her brain reminds her that it is not a good idea to possibly ruin one’s relationship with one’s new partner while pursuing a dangerous villain. 

Like she said, they have a job to do. When it is all over, and Olaf has been captured, perhaps she will try to close that distance. Although romance hadn’t worked out very well for Werther. 

“It’s still a tragic ending,” Jacques says, and tilts his cup back to drink the last few drops of his tea.

“Yes,” She acknowledges, glad to be rid of the brief awkward moment. “If only there were a way to re-write unhappy endings.”

“If only,” He agrees softly, and something in his voice makes her shiver, a melancholy feeling sweeping through her that eerily reminds her of her old school’s motto.

It makes her miss this moment even though it hasn’t ended yet.


End file.
